


My Brother the Pantsless

by LPM



Series: Lone Wolf and Lil Red [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Party, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPM/pseuds/LPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica Reyes is a Hale in all but last name, goes to the same school as her older brother Derek, and lives in the same house. She's also kind of a loner, aside from her brother and his friends, until she meets a certain smart-aleck kid in her class. From there its an adventure of lost pants, new, sort of new, and as-of-yet untold romances, and of course, parties. </p><p>or</p><p>Lone Wolf and Lil Red meet again</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Brother the Pantsless

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Well! Here’s part 2 of this lil series I’ve got going on. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and liked the first one! A lot of you expressed concern over the whole…drug slip thing. Lydia and Allison dropped some Molly in Stiles’ drink, which would make the rave pretty awesome but not really impede his judgment as if it was roofies or something. Also, I guess I didn’t make this all clear or anything, but in this universe, Stiles has taken it before, hence his unconcern about having been slipped it. I’m sorry if that upsets anyone, I didn’t even think properly about it until it was brought up. But, to be clear, the Molly did nothing but make the rave not suck, that’s it.

When Erica was 10, her parents and older brother died. The ensuing chaos remains in her memory as a blur of colors and faceless adults shuttling her from place to place. It wasn’t until she was sitting in yet another unfamiliar room on yet another uncomfortable chair, that she set eyes on the beautiful woman she’ll remember out of them all. Eileen Hale had been young and pretty, all long dark hair and kind eyes; she’d smelled good when she took Erica in her arms and gave her a hug, then told her she’d take care of her. Erica was always tough, always resilient to the kinds of tragedies life threw her way, but in that moment, the tears could not be stopped.

 

Mrs. Hale, it turned out, grew up with her mother. Was one of her closest friends in fact. Since Erica had no surviving relatives, the Hales would be taking her in.

 

Erica found all of this out in a two-day flurry of packing and moving and introductions. Mrs. Hale had a handsome husband called George, who called her “little lady” and gave her caramel sweets. They had a whole brood of children who were loud and friendly. One of the girls, Penelope “call me Penny or else”, was Erica’s age.

 

From that year on, Erica became family. She was like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of her first life and soaring into her second one in brilliant flame. Life with the Hales was good, and stays good.

 

11 years later, Erica is a Hale in all but her last name, Reyes, which she keeps in memory of her lost family. She goes to the same university as her older brother Derek and they share a renovated Victorian with 2 other friends.

 

“Erica! Have you seen my jeans?” Derek asks for the umpteenth time, trawling around their couches as if the jeans will magically appear. Erica gives him a disgusted look and an eyeroll for good measure, completely sick of that question. Derek had come home two nights before in an extremely good mood, which is almost never the case when he goes out with Isaac and Boyd, his two best friends. Isaac, despite looking goofy and little-brother adorable, has a surprising knack for picking up girls with ease, and almost always ends up attached to some vixen for most of the night. Boyd, who Erica will never admit to liking quite a bit, is of the strong and silent variety, which seems to draw hordes of girls to him. He usually spends nights fending off the suggestively gyrating masses. Which leaves Derek, who is also incredibly popular but entirely unapproachable, alone to lurk and sulk until they leave. That night, Boyd and Isaac had come home uncharacteristically early and alone, when she’d asked about her brother, they had both only smirked and went to bed.

 

“You were wearing them yesterday right? Look in the hamper” she drawls, turning the page in her Ancient China textbook. There is a giant test coming up and she has a study group meeting scheduled to go over it. The class is required to fulfill her Asian Studies major, but it’s also kicking her ass. Focusing on why eunuchs were considered abominations AND Derek’s pants problem is giving her a headache.

 

“They’re not in the hamper” Derek says tersely, standing with his hands on his hips, looking supremely irritated. Erica gives up on the eunuchs and turns to her brother with a heavy sigh,

 

“oh god Derek, fine! I’ll help you look, since you won’t stop whining!” she says, and Derek glares at her but doesn’t say anything.

 

* * *

 

 

They search the house for an hour but turn up pantsless in the end. Erica collapses on the bed in Derek’s room,

 

“they’re not here” she says, and Derek raises an eyebrow at her as if to say “no shit”.

 

“Whatever, why are they so important anyway? It’s not like you don’t have a million other pairs of dark, tight-ass jeans” at this question, Derek averts his eyes; but Erica can see, by the way the tips of his ears go pink, that something is definitely up. A sly smile curls onto her lips, and she scoots over until they’re shoulder-to-shoulder. For a minute she’s brought back to when they were kids, how they used to sit shoulder-to-shoulder all the time. Erica and Derek are the closest of the Hale children, despite Penny being her exact age.

 

“Its…they had…there was…a guy,” Derek says, reluctantly, as if the words are being forced from him. Erica’s eyes widen and she gasps, then bursts into giggles.

 

“You!? Picked up a guy!? So THAT’S why you were so giddy and smiley the other night!” she says, completely unperturbed by the death-glare Derek levels her way.

 

“Oh god Der-bear,” she gasps, using his oldest and most hated nickname, “I never thought it would happen!”

 

And she hadn’t. Derek, despite being extremely good looking, has had minimal luck with significant others. When he was 16, he’d dated a girl called Kate Argent, who was 20 at the time and back from university. Kate had taken advantage of Derek in ways that still make Erica’s blood boil and since her, Derek has been wholly unsuccessful in finding someone to be with. He’d had a few short-lived quasi-relationships with girls and boys, but none that drove him into a pants-hunting frenzy. Suddenly Erica _needs_ to know who this mystery man is. She opens her mouth to ask but Derek gets up suddenly, throwing on his “I’m a cool hot guy” leather jacket and striding to the door.

 

“I’m gonna go out.” He says shortly, and then is gone, down the stairs and out the house. Erica hears the engine to his ridiculously sexy black Camaro roar to life and then the screech of tires as he races off.

 

“Damn,” she’ll just have to wait until later.

 

* * *

 

Dr. Harris is by far the douchiest and least liked Asian Studies faculty member. Erica is endlessly annoyed that she got him as her Ancient China professor, but the other professor’s class had filled up at lightning speed because _everybody_ knows how much Harris sucks.

 

“Miss REYeeeesss,” Harris always says her name like he’s a drunk frat boy and she’s some sorority girl willing to go down on him in a bathroom at his house party. His eyes are really creepy too; something about the way they wander to her boobs every so often, perhaps.

 

“Would you tell the class about the last chapter of Dream of the Red Chamber we read? It’s going to be on the exam so be thorough.”

 

Everyone in the class groans, Mr. Harris is actually the worst, those chapters they had read for class aren’t supposed to even _be_ on the exam. Erica scowls and begins to speak but the guy next to her raises his hand,

 

“Uh, not to be That Guy, Dr. Harris, sir, but I think you said last class that we _wouldn’t_ be responsible for this chapter for the exam.”

 

Erica snaps her eyes over to him. He’s cute, in a weird looking way, wearing a red hoodie over skinny jeans and black Chucks. There’s an easy sort of smart alecky smile on his face that seems to be setting Dr. Harris on edge because suddenly his expression is sour and impatient.

 

“I don’t remember ever saying that Mr.” he pauses to check the seating chart, “Stilinski.”

 

The guy settles back into his desk and gives a shrug like he doesn’t really care either way,

 

“I remember it pretty clearly. I even noted it down on my planner, I can show you? Or not, anyway, you said we’d only have chapters 1-3 actually _on_ the exam.”

 

There’s a vein pulsing in Harris’ forehead and the entire class seems to be watching the exchange like it’s Wimbledon.

 

“Mr. Stilinski, even if I _did_ say you would only have the first three chapters, what difference does it make if I decide to add one more?” Harris says testily, giving the guy his most terrible glare. To his credit, the Stilinski kid didn’t even flinch, just sat up and leaned forward. His smile is still easy, but his eyes are firm,

 

“Chapter 4 is a monster, _sir_ ” he says, “and we haven’t done any of the analysis or discussion on it and the test is in 2 days.”

 

Some of the other students are nodding their heads, and suddenly Harris is faced with a class full of accusatory glares. Erica, never one to bow out of an argument, speaks up,

 

“He’s right Dr. Harris,” she says sweetly, “you _did_ say we wouldn’t have to do chapter 4 for the exam.”

 

They know they’ve won when the professor’s shoulders slump and he coughs awkwardly before asking someone else to go over the significance of Baoyu’s jade.

 

Erica turns to the guy next to her and they share a smile.

 

* * *

 

 

Erica’s study group is composed almost entirely of apathetic sophomores who can’t care any less about Ancient Chinese history. They just took the class to avoid the bloodbath that Constitutional History is rumored to be, and to fulfill a requirement. None of them are Asian Studies majors and none of them are even going to try for anything higher than a C.

By the time she finishes their last study meet before the big exam, Erica is irritated and not a little desperate. There are still some things she doesn’t at all understand about Dream of the Red Chamber and none of the study group members had been any help. The library is still surprisingly full, for it being 10pm, but her crankiness is upsetting her ability to keep on studying.

 

Just as she’s about to call it a day and leave, though, she spots a familiar figure at a far table. Surrounded by piles of books is the Stilinski guy, bopping his head to whatever music is in his earbuds. She hesitates for only a minute before she’s bearing down on him.

 

“Oh hey, Erica, right?” he says when he sees her. Erica smiles,

 

“yeah, and you’re…?” she feels bad for not knowing his name, but she’s always been bad with names.

 

“Stiles.” He replies and she raises and eyebrow because she’s pretty sure that isn’t a real name.

 

“Stiles?” she repeats, and his look is knowing when he indicates that she sit down.

 

It turns out that Stiles is the same year as her and also happens to be getting an Asian Studies major. They study until the librarians kick them out to close the place, then Stiles offers to drive her home as its dark and “a lady shouldn’t walk alone round these parts after the sun goes down”.

 

He drives a beat up looking Jeep, which he obviously loves if the way he runs his hands over the hood means anything. They chat about how much Harris sucks and which classes they’re going to take next semester until he pulls up in front of her house and stops.

 

“Thanks Stiles” she says, and they exchange numbers and agree to meet up in the morning before class for some last minute studying.

 

She’s smiling when she gets into the house and Derek furrows his brows at her,

 

“Where’ve _you_ been?” he asks. She kisses him on the cheek as she passes him in the kitchen and starts fixing herself some ramen,

 

“studying with someone from my class.” She says breezily. Derek scowls and looms above her, eyes serious,

 

“a _male_ somebody?” he asks, all Big Brotherly and protective. She rolls her eyes, as cute as Stiles Stilinski is, he’s totally not her type. There’s just something about him that puts people in a really good mood.

 

“ _Yes_ he’s a guy and _no_ its not like that.” She says. Derek nods and backs off,

 

“good.” He says, and goes back to eating his macaroni.

 

This is why Erica doesn’t make a move with Boyd…yet.

 

* * *

 

Erica and Stiles both ace the test and it's the beginning of a beautiful friendship. As pretty as Erica is, she’s also kind of a loner. Being the younger sister of Derek Hale had made friendships with females complicated and any association at all with males nearly impossible. Penny had somehow escaped her particular predicament, possibly because Derek seemed that modicum of overprotective more towards Erica than her. Penny is also just a more sunshiney person, she draws people in; Erica is a lot like Derek, more often than not “broody” can be used to describe her.

 

Having Stiles in her life is like a breath of fresh air. She meets his friends, who are all odd and accepting. There’s goofy Scott who is permanently attached to his beautiful girlfriend Allison, and there’s Danny who apparently used to be a manslayer before he met his very blonde boyfriend and became a kept man, and then there’s the scary smart and incredibly beautiful Lydia, who Stiles used to be in love with and who is now dating the equivalent of an underwear model, called Jackson. They accept Erica into their fold readily, and soon she doesn’t have to spend nights curled up in her room, just waiting for Derek to get back so she can bug him.

 

One month into her newfound friendship, she, Stiles, Lydia, and Allison are sitting on campus having lunch.

 

“So, there’s this party the Pi Mus are hosting on Friday? I figure we need to go at least two towns over to get our outfits because, let’s be serious, who wants to go to a Pi Mu event wearing the same dress as someone else?” Lydia says, as she jots down notes on her Women’s Studies text.

 

Stiles groans and flops down on his back,

 

“Oh god, where is Scott!?” he moans. Lydia ignores him and fixes Erica with assessing eyes,

 

“You _definitely_ need something else to wear than your usual Henley, leggings, and a cardigan thing.” She says. Erica can’t even be mad, she usually just wears Derek’s shirts as if they’re tunics. She’s not all that bothered about fashion.

 

“Stiles, I guess I could get Jackson to take you somewhere decent for clothes,” Lydia says, and Stiles groans.

 

“Ugh, who wants to go to a _party_!? I’m staying in!” he declares, and even Allison rolls her eyes at him.

 

“Not _again_!” Lydia groans, and Erica looks at them in confusion.

 

“What’s so wrong with not wanting to go to a party?” she asks. Allison, usually so mellow, huffs in annoyance,

 

“its not just one party,” she says, and Lydia is nodding in agreement,

 

“yeah, he hasn’t gone out at all since _that_ night.”

 

Erica perks up, looking forward to hearing the story, and Lydia doesn’t disappoint.

 

“So there’s this underground rave we all went to like, a month and a half ago. Stiles hooks up with this insanely hot guy and gives him his number and everything. But the guy never calls him back.” She says,

 

“he’s been depressed about it ever since, but he _refuses_ to tell us his name! We’ve been referring to him as the Lone Wolf, that’s what Stiles called him before he knew his name.”

 

Erica is hit with a strong sense of déjà vu, as if there’s something right under her nose that’s very important to the situation at hand, but laughs and shakes her head,

 

 “cheer up and come out with us! It’ll be fun!” she wheedles, because she really wants to go to the party and she doesn’t feel entirely comfortable without Stiles just yet.

 

“I’ve never been to a Pi Mu party before,” she nudges him a little more and is grateful when he groans and throws his hands up,

 

“fine!” he grouses, but without any real malice.

 

They continue chatting about the party and dresses until its time for class. The déjà vu doesn’t click until Erica gets home and finds Derek’s notorious missing pants in Isaac’s room.

 

* * *

 

The receipt is from the Body Shop and is crinkled to hell, but beyond the many folds and creases, Erica can just make out the now-familiar scrawl on the back. “STILES” is written in all caps above a number she knows is in her phonebook. What the receipt is doing in the pocket of Derek’s missing jeans, she wouldn’t have known, except she’d heard why almost directly from Stiles himself.

 

“Mystery Man…” she murmurs to herself.

 

“Who now?” Isaac says, as he lopes into the room and immediately begins flinging off clothes. Erica cuts him dirty look, irrationally peeved by his slovenly lack of room upkeep causing Derek and Stiles’ heartache.

 

“Why do you have my brother’s pants in here?” she snaps testily, and Isaac raises and eyebrow at her tone but shrugs easily,

 

“eh, I needed to wear them one day.” He says, as if _that_ makes any sense.

 

“You’re like, a foot taller than him!” Erica explodes,

 

“yeah, I wore boots to hide my ankles that day” Isaac explains, and then begins removing his slacks, which is Erica’s cue to leave. She stomps out of the room, after aiming a swift kick to his shin, and goes to her bedroom to brainstorm.

A month and a half of supposed cold-shouldering does a lot to cool the flame of interest, she knows from unfortunate experience. Stiles is clearly still hung-up on Derek, but is likely feeling more than a little bitter at the thought of him ignoring him. Erica remembers the way Derek’s face looked when he came back that night, her brother would _definitely_ be amenable to a meet-up. And besides, something tells her that Stiles is just the kind of guy who can break past the post-Kate emotional wall Derek has put up around himself. If for nothing else, Erica wants to see him finally happy.

 

That thought in mind, Erica begins scheming.

 

* * *

 

Derek hasn’t been in the mood to go to parties.

 

If anyone asks him why, he’ll say it’s because he’s 22 and just so _over_ the rave scene thanksverymuch, but he can’t fool himself, or anyone who really matters, into believing that. He knows _why_ he has a sudden aversion to going out.

 

It’s the guy he’d met at the rave a while back, the impossibly cute one who’d had Derek’s attention from the second he walked into the gig. He’d been wearing a bright red tee that night, and Derek had followed him with his eyes for hours before he’d finally turned to look at him. Derek can’t remember his name, something with an S is his only clue, and there are so many “something with an S” named people in his school alone (he knows, he checked), that Derek pretty much has no hope.

 

For a few weeks after losing that critical scrap of paper, Derek had trawled the rave and party scene like a maniac, so much that even Isaac got tired and refused to accompany him; but after nearly 3 weeks and no sighting of Lil Red, the name he’d given the guy in honor of his red tee, Derek’s resolve had stuttered and failed.

 

“Just come! Pleeeease?” Erica’s begging voice is one of his greatest weaknesses, because it’s sweet and innocent and rarely heard, but even her big eyed, hopeful look, doesn’t shake his resolve.

 

“No, I told you, I have an exam coming up.” He mumbles, faking focus on an unbelievably dry passage on moles in his textbook. Erica looks unimpressed.

 

“Boyd told me that test isn’t for like, 2 months you liar!” she says, and Derek swears inwardly.

 

“Yeah well…I have to prepare the stuff for the freshmen, _they_ have a test and Professor Deaton wants this material on it” he indicates the chapter labeled “moles” in bold print that he’s been staring unseeingly at. Erica’s brow only notches up higher and Derek feels a tiny spike of dread when her hip juts out and her arms cross over her chest in her signature attitude-y, take-no-shit stance.

 

“Well Boyd says Deaton doesn’t _really_ need that stuff until next week Wednesday,” she counters him, and Derek feels the dread washed away by sudden suspicion.

 

“Since when are you and _Boyd_ so close hm?” he asks, eyes trained like crosshairs on Erica’s every move. His sister, ever infuriating, just smirks and shrugs,

 

“we’ve always been close Derek, now stop being dumb and just come to the party!” she says. Derek’s eyes narrow at the nonchalant dismissal of his suspicions, and they’re still narrowed when Erica huffs and turns to stomp up the stairs.

 

“Fine! Fine! I’ll just go by myself!” she says, and Derek is almost relaxing before he hears her say, in an overly loud sort of undertone that should have been immediately suspicious,

 

“or I’ll just ask Boyd to take me, he’s always down to party.”

 

Derek is off the couch and up the stairs in seconds, but Erica’s room door is already closed and locked and no matter how growly or threatening he gets telling her to open it, she won’t.

 

It takes ten minutes of glaring at the stupidly unresponsive wood for him to agree to take her to the party. It’s not like he trusts those damn Pi Mus either anyway.

 

* * *

 

“Your brother?” Stiles’ voice is muffled over the phone, meaning he must be eating something and driving and talking at the same time. Erica rolls her eyes though she knows he can’t see.

 

“Yeah, he’s been super bummed about this guy. Hasn’t been out in forever, so I made him come out tonight, if that’s ok?” she says.

 

“IS HE HOT!?” Lydia shouts in the background, and everyone laughs and shushes each other and Erica’s eyes might never stop rolling but she’s smiling too hard to care. Friends will do that to a person.

 

“Ignore her, she’s a barbarian,” Stiles says dramatically, “but yeah, it’s totally cool if you bring him. I can understand being down and out about some douchebag.”

 

Erica winces on the last part, but hopes Derek can get over his words constipation long enough to explain himself later.

 

“Alright! Thanks! I’ll see you guys there!” she chirps, and hangs up.

 

Her coat is already on, covering up the scandalous outfit Lydia had picked for her. The theme of the party is Vegas, and Erica’s feet are already beginning to hurt in the ridiculously high stilettos Lydia lent her; the blonde hair she usually keeps in a messy bun on top of her head has been manipulated into an elegantly waving waterfall of spun gold, and her makeup is flawless. All in all, she looks really good.

 

“You guys ready!?” she calls up the stairs, and Isaac comes barreling down soon after. His idea of Vegas seems to involve magic, as he’s decked out in a pair of slim fitting charcoal slacks, suspenders, a top hat, shirt cuffs, and nothing else. His chest, bare and leanly muscled, has been rubbed with glitter, and he has a big silver star painted over one side of his face. He smiles at her and pulls a nickel from behind her ear,

 

“Ta-dah! You look awesome by the way” he says, and she’ll be damned if she admits to blushing, but she smiles up at him and chucks him on the shoulder,

 

“not so bad yourself you weirdo.” She says.

 

Next down is Boyd, who makes Erica’s breath stop and her heart skip many beats when he steps down in his sharply tailored cream suit, lavender silk tie and matching pocket square, and rarely worn chestnut wingtips. His smile flashes white against his dark skin and his eyes when they look at her are appreciative, making her skin tingle.

 

“Hey,” he says, and if Isaac made her blush, Boyd makes her _burn_.

 

“H-Hi,” she says, and his smile widens a fraction at the quaver in her voice. They stay staring at each other for a minute, Isaac smirking between them like he knows a good secret, until they hear Derek coming down the stairs.

 

“Woah, hubba hubba,” Isaac says comically, and indeed Derek looks like he belongs on the cover of GQ, or in a Bond movie. He’s opted for the classic black suit and tie look, tailored to perfection against his frame. His jacket is black on black with a satin tuxedo lapel and pocket accent, his pocket square is patterned black silk. His legs look long in his sharp, pressed black trousers, and his black wingtips are perfectly shined. He even made effort to do a stylish slick to his hair.

 

“Well?” he says, looking grumpily at all of them, “let’s get this thing over with.”

 

* * *

 

Derek drives Erica in the Camaro, with Boyd and Isaac behind them in Boyd’s sleek black Beemer. When they arrive at the venue, the party is already in full swing and some people are already stumbling.

 

“Looks like fun,” Erica says.

 

Derek grunts in response.

 

“I think I see Melissa Fontaine in a see-through dress,” Isaac says almost as soon as the four of them meet up, and then he’s off in the crowd. They all shake their heads,

 

“When will that boy find someone and sit still for a minute?” Erica wonders out loud. Boyd smiles,

 

“some people just…take awhile to see what the really want and then take it.” He says, and Erica thinks she isn’t mistaken to see significance in the way he looks at her.

 

Derek’s expression is sour when she looks at him, and he’s ramping himself up to the overprotective tyrant she remembers from high school, so she grabs his hand and points to the drinks,

 

“that looks good!” she says, dragging him away. She shoots Boyd one last look. He smiles at her and turns to talk to someone who’s just come up behind him.

 

At the drinks table, Erica pours them both cups of clear jungle juice that tastes like lemon water, sips at it, and decides Pi Mus know their stuff.

 

“Erica,” Derek says tersely, cup untouched in his hand. Erica whips out her phone and texts Lydia that she’s at the drinks table, not really paying attention to Derek.

 

“Yes dear?” she says on a sigh, looking around the crowd for Lydia’s strawberry-blonde head of hair.

 

“What’s all this about with you and Boyd?” Derek bites out, eyes sharp and jaw muscles twitching. He looms over her, eyebrows thunderous and forbidding,

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” she singsongs, eyes still searching.

 

Derek takes her by the upper arms and spins her to look at him, holding her just hard enough to keep her in place. His face when he looks at her is a picture of conflict, and for a moment she forgets her scheme to focus.

 

“Nothing is happening,” she begins, and Derek’s shoulders begin to relax until, “yet.” And he tenses again.

 

“Boyd’s one of my best friends,” he says carefully, “he’s a good guy, he…he’d never hurt you…”

 

Erica brings up her hands to pull Derek’s stubbly face down to her so their foreheads rest against each other.

 

“I know,” she almost whispers. Derek huffs,

 

“But you’re my baby sister…and he’s…well I’ve known everything he’s ever done with girls since we were kids…I…I don’t know how to separate that…” he says,

 

“I know,” she’s heard stories of how Boyd used to be, “but Derek, I still want to.”

 

He looks into her eyes unwaveringly, searching for something.

 

“Woah, Erica!”

 

Lydia’s voice cracks like a whip through the moment and they break apart slowly to face her. Lydia is with Jackson, Danny, and Stiles. Erica feels Derek stiffen behind her, and sees the color drain from Stiles’ face. She hadn’t planned on having a heart-to-heart with Derek about the whole Boyd situation, but there’s nothing to be done for it in the moment.

 

“Hey Lydia, it’s not like that!” she goes in and gives the girl a hug, then Jackson and Danny and lastly Stiles, who is still looking gobsmacked.

 

“Guys this is my brother Derek!” she says proudly, dragging him forward,

 

“And these are my new friends Derek, Lydia, Jackson, Danny, and Stiles.”

 

“Stiles…” Derek says faintly, and that seems to snap Stiles out of his daze because suddenly he’s all in Derek’s face.

 

“You!” he yells, and then looks over at Erica who has on her best “what’s going on” face.

 

“Sorry Erica,” he says, and then her confusion is real because it’s a bit of a non sequitur, but her confusion is relieved when Stiles reels back and punches Derek in the abdomen, hard. The whole group erupts into chaos and questions, but Stiles simply runs off into the crowd as if realizing what he’s just done.

 

Lydia looks confused, “what just happened!?” she says, looking at Erica for an explanation. Erica shrugs and looks at Derek who is recovered from the punch and is staring into the crowd in the direction Stiles ran.

 

“Derek?” she asks, but he only looks at her for a moment, before he too is striding off into the crowd, every fiber of his being screaming purpose.

 

For a minute, nobody moves. Then Danny, newly single and ready to mingle, sees something he likes in the crowd and goes off after it, leaving Erica with Jackson and Lydia.

 

“Well that was…unexpected,” Lydia says, and Erica can only agree.

 

They stand at the drinks table for a while, loading up on the suspiciously tasteless jungle juice, before they’re off to the dance floor, loose limbed and giggly. Lydia and Jackson latch onto each other and move together in an intimate sinuous undulation of hips that looks familiar and undeniably sexy. For a minute, Erica feels terribly alone, and then she feels someone’s hands on her waist. She spins, ready to tell off some drunk asshole, but faces Boyd’s smile and dark eyes instead.

 

“Can I?” he asks, and she slings her arms around his neck, pressing herself, finally, against his body

 

“You can,” she says cheekily. He laughs then, and its something she thinks she could listen to for a very long time.

 

* * *

 

Derek finds Stiles easily, despite there being an unbelievable amount of people at the party. He’s skulking around outside the venue, and looks remorseful when he spots Derek walking towards him.

 

“Before you say anything, I want you to know that this is entirely your fau---‘’ Stiles begins saying but is cut off by Derek grabbing him and crushing him to his chest in a tight hug.

 

When they pull apart, Derek’s eyes are dark and he looks at Stiles like he’s a miracle,

 

“You’ve got a good punch,” he says, and Stiles laughs incredulously,

 

“are you serious dude!?” he exclaims, waving his sore knuckles in Derek’s face, “your abs pretty much broke my hand man.” He informs him. Derek takes the hand in one of his and brushes his thumbs along the bruised knuckles, then raises it to his lips to plant a light kiss against them,

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and they both know he means for more than the hand.

 

“Why didn’t you call me?” Stiles asks quietly, betraying a little bit more hurt than he would like. Derek sighs and drops his hand,

 

“I put the number in my jeans, and one of my roommates borrowed them without telling me. I thought I’d lost them at the Laundromat or something, I couldn’t find the number” he mumbles and he looks so much like an apologetic little puppy that Stiles forgives him then and there. After all, Erica said he’d been having a tough time of things pining too.

 

“Ok.” Stiles says.

 

“Ok?” Derek’s eyebrow is the definition of doubtful so Stiles laughs and steps close, sliding his hands up and around Derek’s neck,

 

“Ok!” he exclaims and laughs when one of Derek’s hands goes around his waist and drags him so he’s flush against Derek’s semi-familiar muscled frame.

 

“Good,” is all Derek says, before he’s kissing Stiles, and it’s really just as amazing as he remembers. 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> AN: there is no sex in this one, but I just wanted to roll up to the really good part and this turned out to be so damn long! The jungle juice I mention here? I’ve had it before, and that stuff will have you knocked OUT before you know what’s going on. I know, I made it for New Years and I was gone before I knew what was going on. It’s good for parties, but terrifying because it really actually does taste like lemon water, so you don’t know how much you’re drinking. Anyway, the next (last?) part of this series will be coming soon. I’ve been planning it all break essentially and I’m trying new things you guys, I’m trying new things. In any case, next chapter will almost definitely have a distinct PWP feel to it. I hope someone is looking forward to it!


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